Like Rain on a Window
by OnlySecondsAway
Summary: Steve and Tony have adopted Peter, but now they have to leave him. What happens when they don't return? What happens when they do? AU. Steve and Tony do NOT have powers, and are NOT a part of the Avengers. They're scientists/researchers. May change rating to M for language later.
1. Lightning Flashes

The rain is pouring hard down on the windshield of the car, and Peter is nervous. His dad shows no indication of slowing down, and his papa doesn't seem to care. They're whispering in hushed tones to each other, not knowing that Peter is awake and listening.

"We have to get out of here, you know we can't stay," Tony whispers, and Peter can see the strain in his face, and his tight grip on the wheel.

"But what about Peter? How long will we have to leave him?" Steve asks as he rifles through the files and notebooks Peter had watched him grab from the office before the rushed out the door.

"Just until it's safe to come back. We can't risk taking him with us," Tony argues, and Peter can here the strain in his voice.

He wonders again where they are going, and why they're leaving him. He's not even sure _where_ they're leaving him. He can feel the emotion in the car; a blend of fear, anxiety, and sadness. For a four year old, Peter is very observant, much to the dismay of his parents, who can't often slip something past him.

"I'm just, I'm so worried," and Peter can see that he is; the worry lines evident on his forehead. "He's never been without us for more than a day. How will we know he's safe?"

"Ben and May are more than capable of watching Peter for the time being. If it seems we'll be gone longer than I think now, we'll try to make other arrangements," Tony tries to reason, knowing this is their best bet for now. "But they're close by, and they know Peter's habits."

Peter is excited to hear he's going to Uncle Ben and Aunt May's. His uncle always has a fun project he's working on, or a story about him and Steve growing up, and his aunt is always willing to give him just a little extra dessert to her favorite, and only, nephew.

The rain is still coming down hard, and he starts to tune out his dads' hushed whispering, favoring to watch the rain drops race down his window. Even though he knows his dads are scared, he feels safe inside the car, like nothing can touch him there; the rain just slides right off.

Peter already knows he's adopted, he even knows a little about why. Mostly his dads tell him they'll explain it more when he's a little older. His dad, Tony, is papa, Steve's, husband. He knows Steve is Aunt May's brother. He also knows that the two of them had another sister, who passed away before Peter turned one. He doesn't know how she died, but he knows it was a bad thing that no one likes to talk about. When Peter was born they adopted him, since his mother wasn't "ready to take care of someone as special as" him.

All of a sudden, the car comes to slippery, screeching halt outside a small house, which Peter recognizes as his Aunt and Uncle's. He waits as Steve preps an umbrella for the little boy, and helps him out of the car with his small bag of belongings; a toothbrush, his blanket, a few clothing items, and his favorite stuffed bear, which is dressed in a scientist's outfit like his dads'.

When they reach the door, his aunt and uncle throw it open and hurry them inside.

"Stay right here, Peter," Steve says, the worry on his face growing deeper.

Peter sits down on the couch and watches as Tony pulls the curtains over the windows. Peter feels a little sad at that, he likes watching the rain.

The adults all then move into the small kitchen, and Peter can hear them planning.

"We'll be back as soon as we can be," Tony assures them. "We don't want to be away from him any more than he wants to be away from us."

They all stand and move to the door, and Peter notices that all four of them look as if they're holding back tears.

Steve leans down to hug his young son. "Please be good, Peter. I love you so much," he whispers in his ear. "I'll see you soon, I promise."

Peter is reluctant to let go of the hug, but Steve stands up to hug his older sister and brother-in-law.

Tony, too, says his goodbyes.

"I love you, peanut. We'll be back before you know it," he assures Peter, kissing him on the forehead, and Peter feels that his cheeks are wet.

Tony then kisses May on the cheek, and shakes Ben's hand, before turning to leave.

"He hates fish," Steve starts to ramble off Peter's habits and preferences, his voice catching, "but he loves spaghetti. He has to have his blanket and bear while he sleeps, and he likes it very dark, but with the door cracked."

Tony starts to pull on his shoulder, urging him that they have to go, but his cheeks are tracked with tears and his eyes are rimmed red.

Once they're gone and the door is shut, it hits Peter; his dads have just left and he doesn't know why or where they're going. He rushes to the door, face pressed against the glass, and watches as they get into the black sedan. He sees them look back, and he washes as their tears are washed away by the rain. Lightning flashes, thunder cracks, and they're gone. Their tear streaked, rain soaked faces is the last image of his parents he's left with.


	2. Nightmares

Peter is calm. The water is pouring down around him, but he knows the windows will keep him safe. There is a safe, warm presence he can feel, assuring him all is fine. He knows the pounding rain cannot reach him here.

When the lightning flashes, his heart starts to pound. He counts the beats before the thunder, knowing now that it's close. With the deafening crack his calm fades, and he starts to panic. The calming presence is gone, and he hears someone screaming his name.

Suddenly, he's jolted awake, and he sees Aunt May standing above him; there's a worried expression gracing her aging face.

"Peter, are you okay?" The unsaid words speak volumes, however; this is the third time this week he's woken up this way.

"Yeah. Yes. 'm fine," he says, heart still pounding. "S'just the rain."

He's been having the same nightmare every rainy night for the last eleven years. It's not always this bad though. They both look out the window, and study the storm outside. Just watching the water slide down the window, coupled with his Aunt's soothing presence, helps to calm him.

"I'm sorry, Aunt May," he apologizes, feeling bad for waking her again. "I wish I knew how to stop it."

"Sweetheart," she begins as she settles on the edge of the bed, rubbing his back in a circular motion, "I don't want you to apologize. I just wish we could find a way to help."

They both knew it was basically useless though. A few years ago they had tried a therapist, but funds were tight in this family, and it wasn't getting anywhere. He knew the nightmare was caused by his parents leaving him on that rainy, thundering night. He knew that there was probably also nothing that could fix it; the trauma had been left with him, weighing heavy even at age fifteen.

Peter glances at the clock, the red numbers are too bright in the dark room. There's no light from outside, and he's always slept with his room as dark as possible. It's only two thirty-three. He figures they can both still get about three more hours of sleep, if they go to bed now.

"You can go back to bed, Aunt May," he encourages. "I'll try the ear plugs. Maybe they'll help."

He reaches to rifle through his nightstand, fishing out a pack of wax ear plugs. While they make it harder to sleep, he hates being able to hear the sound of his own heartbeat, they block out the sound of the rain a little bit; sometimes this can keep the nightmares at bay.

"Are you sure?" She asks, still worried about the boy she's considered her son for the last decade. "We can go downstairs and have some milk, if you'd like. Or just talk. I'm always happy to talk." The circular rubbing motions haven't stopped, and they're actually starting to soothe Peter.

"No thanks, Aunt May. But thank you," he says, grateful she's there for him. He turns to give her a strong hug, holding on a little longer than necessary. "Go back to bed."

She kisses the top of his head, which is getting harder to do every year.

"I love you, Peter. I'll see you in the morning," she smiles at him softly; he can just make it out in the darkness.

"I love you, too."

She kisses him one last time, and then walks out of the room. She leaves the door cracked just ever so slightly, just like she's done since he was four years old.

Once she's gone, he falls back onto the bed and closes his eyes. He rolls and squishes the ear plugs before molding them into his ears. He can hear his heartbeat now; still beating faster than it normally does, but finally slowing. He hears himself swallow, hears his breathing, hears his blood rushing through his ears with every beat.

He finds himself unable to sleep, and watches the numbers on the analog clock switch on precisely every hundredth heartbeat. He starts to think about his life, like he usually does at these times. In almost all regards, he's completely normal for a kid his age. He skateboards a lot, with it being his main mode of transportation; he likes photography, and he works on both the school newspaper and yearbook; he studies a fair amount and maintains pretty much perfect grades, though he knows that the PE teacher is just out to get him; he's definitely not a "popular" kid, but he's not exactly a social pariah, either; he doesn't really play sports, but he's been known to participate in a pick-up game of basketball with some of the neighbor guys. Overall, he's unremarkable.

A few things about him do stand out, however. When he was born, his mother gave him up immediately. She, and everyone she knew, readily agreed this was the right decision. Instead, he was raised by his dad, Tony, and his papa, Steve. In actuality, Steve was his uncle; his mother was Steve's baby sister. He knows now the mystery that was his mother's death right before his first birthday. After refusing help, and pushing away all of her loved ones, she eventually overdosed by herself. Consequently, he never met her, as far as he can remember.

When he was four, Peter was dropped off with his Aunt May and Uncle Ben. His dads had promised to return quickly, but eleven years later he doesn't actually know if they're _alive_. At every birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving, even Halloween, he hoped they'd appear.

That's not to say his aunt and uncle aren't the best parents he could have asked for, they are. They love him as much as any child could hope to be loved, and care for him better than anyone could have hoped. Unable to have kids themselves, they love Peter as if he is their own, and Peter knows this.

Peter also knows that, to most people, they've been his parents longer than his dads were. But there's a certain attachment he feels to the parents who cared for him through sleepless nights, taught him to speak, taught him to walk, and gave up their old lives to raise him as their own child.

He's even told how much like them he is. Like Steve, people say, he's small for his age; they always follow this up with the fact that by twenty, Steve was well over six feet tall, and very muscular. He's also told that, though not actually related, he seems to have Tony's quick wit, knack for sarcasm, and love of science and math.

He also knows, though, that he gets much of his personality from Uncle Ben and Aunt May. He's kind and gentle like his mother-figure, and strong-willed and thoughtful like his uncle.

It's that combination of intelligence, stubbornness, and kindness that usually lands him in trouble, though. He hates a bully, and he's always sticking his nose in where he shouldn't. He just feels obligated to help, if he can. Apparently that's pretty common for the men in his family.

He also got his last name from his aunt and uncle, who, when Peter was seven, adopted the boy, officially. With little hope for his parents' return, they decided it would be best if they could legally make decisions for him, with no obstacles.

And so, he was Peter Parker; the kid with the camera and skateboard who couldn't mind his own business. But he's happy this way, and while his life hasn't always been perfect, he's used to it.

It's almost four in the morning when the rain begins to subside, and Peter finally drifts to sleep for a the few hours before his alarm sounds for school; he still dreams about the windowed room with the rain outside, but this time the warm presence has returned. He sleeps peacefully until just before six, when a knock at the front door wakes him.

"Who would come knocking at this hour?" He hears his uncle complain. He doesn't hear what his aunt says, but he does catch his uncle's response, "I'm just saying, it's a strange hour for salesmen or social visits."

He slips out his ear plugs, and listens as Uncle Ben walks heavily down the stairs to the door, and he hears Aunt May pad softly behind him. What intrigues him is when he hears the door open, only to be followed by his aunt's sharp intake of breath, and his uncle's indignant grunt of surprise.

"Where's Peter?" He hears a familiar voice ask, before his whole body tenses in recognition.

"We thought you were _dead_," May says softly.


	3. Worry Lines

"Where's Peter?" He hears a familiar voice ask, before his whole body tenses in recognition.

"We thought you were _dead_," May says softly.

Peter can't move. He can't breathe. He's starting to feel nauseas, and he's not entirely sure if what he thinks is happening is actually happening.

"We can explain," he hears another familiar voice begin to plead, "but _please_ we have to see our baby boy."

Peter hears his uncle sigh, clearly deliberating what to do.

"Well, right now Peter is sleeping. He doesn't get up for school for another ten minutes. Why don't you come on in, have some coffee. You can see him once he gets up."

"Thank you," the two men say in unison, clearly relieved that the door hasn't been shut in their face.

Peter still feels sick. This is the exact moment he's been waiting for eleven years. Yet now he doesn't know what to do; getting up and going downstairs will make everything so real, staying here will just prolong the inevitable. Will his dads still love him? Will he still love them? Is he ready to have his life uprooted?

The blaring noise of the alarm clock sounds loudly, and he slams it off as quickly as possible. He doesn't want the whole house to know he's up.

Too late.

"Peter!" His Aunt May calls up the stairs. "Could you come down here? We need you in the kitchen; you have some, um, visitors."

He can tell she's trying to be tactful, unsure of how to word it.

He's not sure if he's quite ready, however.

"I'm going to shower first! Is that okay?" He yells down, hoping it can buy time. He usually eats breakfast before getting ready, but he's not so hungry today.

"Yes, son, that's fine," his uncle responds back after a pause

Peter wonders idly if Uncle Ben calling him "son" will bother is dads. He undresses and goes into the bathroom to shower, scrubbing his whole body down with soap, and washing his hair twice. He's stalling, he knows, but this has to be one of the most stressful moments of his life.

After showering, he gets dressed in his normal school get-up; dark fitted jeans, a t-shirt, a hoodie, and a coat for the rain. He runs his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame the gravity-defying mop, but it doesn't change much. He grabs all of his books and school stuff off the floor, shoving it into his backpack, and then grabs his ipod, phone, and skateboard before heading down the stairs.

He pauses outside the kitchen door, and prepares himself. He's not actually supposed to know who's sitting on the other side of the old white door, so he puts an indifferent, slightly tired look on his face, takes a deep breath, and pushes the door open.

When it swings fully open and he can actually _see_ the two people he's missed most in the world, he drops all pretenses and freezes. They look the same, yet different. His dad's dark hair as grayed on the sides, and his eyes and mouth are tinged with wrinkles from worry and stress. His papa's muscular frame is a little less toned, and he has similar worry lines, if not more severe. They both looks exhausted, like they haven't had a decent night's sleep in the eleven years they've been gone.

Peter is cemented to the spot he's standing in. His mouth is slightly open, and his arms are frozen; one holding his skateboard under his arm, the other clutching his backpack strap so hard his knuckles are whitening. He just stares. He can't help it. He's elated, he's worried, he's scared, he's angry, he's curious, he's confused. He's ready to explode with emotion. But he can't.

Aunt May looks concerned, he can see her on the outside of his vision, but his eyes are planted firmly on his dads. But they're not moving, either; staring at Peter instead. They're eyes are roaming over his entire body, and he can see the surprise in their eyes. It's understandable, really; he's not four anymore. He's fifteen, and a decade on a child is a lot more than a decade on them.

It's been a few minutes now, and now Peter feels awkward from the silence. But he's just not sure what to say. Of all the times he imagined his parents' reappearance, he never thought about what he'd actually _say_. As a small child he'd just assumed they'd return "any day now." As a teenager, he just knew he'd be happy.

Finally, Steve breaks the silence and stillness, abruptly standing and enveloping the boy in his arms.

"I've missed you so, so much, Peter," he says, sounding sincere and almost desperate. "We wanted to be back so much sooner. I can't believe this. I'm so, so sorry."

Peter still doesn't know what to say, though a few things come to mind; including "it's okay," and "well why weren't you?"

He just settles on hugging him back, saying "I missed you, Papa."

Tony takes this as an encouraging sign, and he too stands to hug Peter.

"Dad," Peter starts to say, before finally crying, and letting himself be held by his dads.

He has so many questions, but right now he can't think of them. They stay like that for a moment, not noticing the time.

Aunt May, however, speaks up.

"Peter, you do have to get going to school; unless you'd like me to call you out?" She offers, though Peter knows she's a stickler for the rules.

"Yeah, no I have to go. I, uh, I have a test in my first period, it's Italian. I have to get going, actually," He says, eyeing the weather outside the window and knowing by time he gets all the way to class he'll probably be soaking wet.

"If you want, Peter, we could drive you?" Tony offers tentatively. "It's raining pretty hard out there, and you shouldn't go by skateboard."

Peter's first reaction is to say "Oh now you care?" and he's surprised by that. Instead he accepts the offer.

He sits down at the table, between the two men, and starts to pick at the plate his aunt had prepared for him; he's not exactly hungry, but she's always insisted he eat in the morning.

"So, you're taking Italian, then?" Steve asks, clearly unsure of what he's doing.

"Yeah," he mutters through a mouthful of toast; he's weirdly excited that his papa is asking about his school work, so he elaborates. "It's not my best subject, but I'm getting the hang of it. I'm much better in my biology and chemistry classes," he swallows when his aunt gives him the don't-talk-with-your-mouth-full look. "And PE is definitely my worst subject," he laughs a little darkly at that one.

"That's my boy!" Tony exclaims, before everyone looks at him strangely. "Sorry, I uh, that's just how I was. Steve, too. He was rotten at PE… Though I was more of a physics kinda guy than biology…" he trails off.

Peter starts to laugh. It's perfect.

Until Uncle Ben speaks up. He'd been oddly silent the entire time; Peter knows he's always been the type to collect his thoughts, think before he speaks.

"But where have you been?" He asks the question that had temporarily slipped Peter's mind. "You called one night eleven years ago in a panic, dropped him off, said you'd be back, and then we never heard from you again. We thought you were dead!" He starts to yell, clearly upset by their sudden, inexplicable return. "Everyone thought you were dead! Peter thought he'd lost his parents! Why did you leave him? Where did you go? Why didn't you come back?"

Peter is startled by his anger; he's never been one to yell.

Steve looks startled by his brother-in-law's outburst, then ashamed. Tony, too, looks more than a little chagrined.

"I know. I don't even know where to begin, or what to say," Tony begins. "Saying 'sorry' is not enough here, nor will it ever be. The best we can offer is an explanation. If you'd like, we'll tell you as much as we can once we return from taking Peter to school," he offers.

Peter wants to object, saying he should be there, too, but Steve rests a hand on his shoulder, and leans close to him.

"We'll all have to decide together how to tell you, and what's appropriate," he says softly to the boy. "We don't want to intrude on what your aunt and uncle thinks is best."

Peter nods slowly, understand yet still annoyed.

"Okay, well, um, should we get going, then?" Steve asks, addressing the whole group.

"Yeah," Peter answers. "I wouldn't mind getting there a little early. I need to ask my study group a few questions anyway."

The two older men stand and slip their coats back on while Peter finishes his orange juice. Peter gives Aunt May a kiss on the cheek, and she wishes him good luck on his exam. Uncle Ben also wishes him well on the test, and tells him to have a good day with a pat on the shoulder.

The three of them then walk out to the car Steve and Tony had driven up in, and Peter is surprised to see it's the same one from when he was a child, though he doesn't ask about it.

The ride to school is mostly silent, and Peter spends much of it watching the misty rain stick to the window; the drops aren't quite full enough to run yet.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sure you all saw it coming, but they're back! Bear with me while I navigate that awkward tricky water. **

**Also, this is going to get a little science fictiony, which is new for me. I watch/read a lot of that, but writing it will be an adventure. **

**Hopefully, though, you all like it!**

**Let me know what you think so far!**

**Also, weirdly enough, today it started raining like crazy.**


	4. Tea and Cookies

**A/N:** This took me a while, I actually had to do a fair amount of research. And then writing it without it coming across (to me at least) as really stupid and cheesy, was fairly difficult.

* * *

Like Aunt May had said, they'd been presumed dead. Three years after he'd been dropped off with his aunt and uncle, his two guardians had decided to file a missing persons report. This however, had turned up almost nothing. For a few weeks after they left, there had been some relatively small withdrawals from their bank accounts, but even those had ceased almost immediately. After that, they'd dropped off the map.

As a child, he'd liked to imagine that they were secret agents, who'd had no choice but to disappear forever. He'd even pretend that one day he'd be in some exotic location, and that's where he'd see them. And they'd know it was him, and they'd be reunited. It sounds immature, and impossible, but as a small boy he'd lived off the idea.

For the most part, his day is a blur. He goes to his class, he does his work, and he moves on to the next one. He's surprisingly on time to all of his periods, not feeling up to talking outside, or goofing off. His teachers are surprised by the lack of sarcastic quips and constant corrections in their work, though they certainly don't feel compelled to complain.

Once the school day is over, he's not sure what he's supposed to do. Do his dads plan on picking him up? It's still raining, but he does have his skateboard if he needs to get himself home. When he walks out of the front doors of the school, however, there sits the old car. He smiles as he almost runs up to the car, and climbs into the back seat.

"How was your day?" Steve asks, and the natural way it comes out makes Peter's stomach twist in a good way.

"Um, it was okay. Pretty uneventful, I guess," he answers. He doesn't really remember any kind of standout events.

"Well, that's good. Could've been worse right?" Tony says, smiling in the rear view window. "Did your Italian test go well?"

"I think so. I'm not sure. But I think my chem lab went well," he changes the subject from the test. "I could probably do those in my sleep."

"You get that from your dad," Steve jokes, but then things get a little quiet. Peter can't have gotten a trait from someone who neither raised him, nor had any real biological relationship to him.

All of a sudden, things feel forced to Peter. It's not that he doesn't feel comfortable with his dads, it's just that he feels like they're trying too hard. He doesn't want to act like a big, happy family, he'd rather find out what happened.

"Yeah, so how was your day? Did you guys talk to Aunt May and Uncle Ben?" He asks, deciding to jump right to the point. He doesn't see why he should have to wait much longer to know where his parents had been for the last eleven years of his life.

"Yes, Peter, we did," Steve begins, trying to formulate the best way to say what he wants to say. "Ben was very persistent, and we spent quite some time talking with him and May about the circumstances of the last eleven years," he pauses, and Tony takes over.

"We decided together that we're going to tell you everything, you deserve that much," his dad admits, "but we'd like to wait until we get home. We'd like to have your aunt and uncle there, too. Some of it may be a lot to process."

"Yeah, that's fine," Peter agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thank you," he adds thoughtfully.

They drive the rest of the way making small talk, and doing a little bit of catch-up. Peter tells them about some of his clubs, and talks a little about his friends.

"Got a girlfriend then?" Steve teases, laughing at the boy's blush.

"Papa! No, I just, no I don't," he stumbles over his words, uncomfortable talking about his love life with pretty much anyone, especially his dads.

"Steve, he's blushing like a school girl!" Tony furthers his embarrassment. "Clearly that comes from your side of the family," he teases Steve, who's definitely been known to turn beet-red.

Peter just keeps silent, not wanting them to pursue the topic any further. But no such luck.

"So who is she then?" Tony pipes in again.

"She's no one, she's just a girl at school, who barely knows I exist," he mutters, thinking back to the times she'd stopped Flash from furthering his torture upon him.

At this point they arrive at the house, and Peter is grateful to get out of the conversation. He grabs his backpack and skateboard, and follows his dads up the stairs to the house.

When they get inside, he's surprised to see that his uncle is sitting in his chair with a magazine, since normally he'd be at work right now; Mondays are when he goes in late for the night shift. He's not surprised, however, that Aunt May has made a pot of tea, and cookies. It's her day off, and whenever she's home on a rainy day, she likes to sit with Peter while he does his homework, with hot tea and some kind of fresh baked snack.

What Peter is taken aback by the most, is how nervous she looks. She keeps glancing between the two older men and Peter, almost analytically. He feels weird now, like something is _wrong_. But nothing should be wrong; his dads are back, and now they're going to tell him what happened.

"I'm sorry," she says after a minute of silence. "Please, all of you, come sit down, have some tea. We have a lot to discuss, I suppose."

A little awkwardly, they all sit around the coffee table, and begin to fix their tea. Peter is grateful to have something to fidget with, to be honest.

"So, Peter," Tony begins, "like we said in the car, we discussed everything with your aunt and uncle today. There were some things they knew, but there was a lot of information we'd kept hidden; most of it, in fact. We did this to protect you. We think the best way to begin is to go back to the beginning and explain ourselves, no jumping around, and no nonsense."

Peter feels wildly confused. He stares at his fathers, waiting for them to go on.

"Peter," Steve jumps in, "I met your dad as a graduate student, studying biological engineering and genetics at MIT. He was doing a talk as part of an alumni guest lecturer series. He was explaining the potential use of some of his technologies in my field. I can't say I fully understood, so I waited to ask him questions after his presentation. We decided to go out for coffee, and he explained to me the concepts in more depth.

"We actually ended up hitting it off pretty well, as you obviously know. He took an interest in my research, and after I finished my doctorate program, we started a new project. He had the funding, and I had the preliminary research," he takes a pause here, but Tony interrupts.

"Wait, how much do you know about my life before you, Peter?" Tony asks cautiously.

Peter had never thought about it. He hadn't thought his parents were anything but normal parents. He shakes his head. "Not much?" He says it almost as a question.

"Well, then, do you remember the legal issues and scandals surrounding Stane Industries about a year ago?" Tony asks, and Peter wonders what it has to do with his dad.

"Yeah, a little. They were a weapons and munitions manufacturer, right? They got caught dealing under the table?" He's a little fuzzy on the details, but he remembers the man who'd been at the head of it all, Obadiah Stane, had given him the creeps.

"Yes. But before it was Stane Industries, it was Stark Industries," he informs the boy seriously. "It was started by my grandfather, and my father took over at the beginning of World War II. When he passed away when I was only a teenager, Stane ran the company for a while. When I was finished with school, I came back to run it. As it turned out, this didn't sit too well with him. I didn't like the way things were going. I felt responsible for the lives of innocent soldiers and civilians, and I wanted to find a way to better the company. When I tried to shut down the weapons portion of our business, to focus on more medical and philanthropic technologies, he was more than a little angry.

"He locked me out of the company, and eventually took over. I still had my investments, properties, and intellectual property, so I was able to continue my work. That's around the time I met your Papa. It was actually perfect timing."

Peter is surprised by this. He'd heard reference to the former name when the story had been in the news, but he'd never associated it with his dad; surely there were thousands of people with the name Stark.

"So is that why you disappeared?" Peter asks, trying to make a connection.

"Yes and no," Steve says. "While it had to do with Stane, it wasn't related to weaponry. He had discovered what your dad and I were working on, and wanted to steal it. We're not even sure how he found out; the only people who knew about our research and developments were us, your mother, and a few close friends. We assume it was one of our friends, interested in making a quick bit of cash.

"We realized how much he actually knew when you were four, and we realized he had plans to steal all of our work. The best way we could protect everything, was by leaving."

"What were you working on?" Peter presses, wondering how it's connected to his mother. "Why did she know, but not Aunt May? And why couldn't I go with you?" He glances over at his aging aunt, who is watching the three of them converse with concern.

"This is the tricky part, Peter," Tony says. "We won't go into much detail, but you can ask us about it later, if you'd like." He pauses, mulling over the best way to tell his son the truth. "Peter, I'm just going to tell you this, and it will seem strange.

"We were working on a way for homosexual couples to have children; biological children of their own. It was a lengthy process, and we hit a lot of dead ends. Then with stem cell research, we were able to make a lot of advances. We were able to _create_ cells that acted like stem cells from adult skin cells. From here we were able to direct those stem cells to make human reproductive cells.

"When your mother found out what we were doing, she volunteered to help us in a way we'd thought we would never have. She allowed us to use her as a surrogate mother, to see if we could actually use our developments to make children," he stops and looks at Peter, watching his reaction. "Peter, our trial worked."

Peter is frozen; things are starting to make sense. But they seem impossible. It _isn't possible_. He studies his dad, who has a messy mop of dark brown hair, tanned olive skin, and wide brown eyes. He switches his gaze to his papa, who was small and wiry as a child. He shares Tony's knack for math and physics, and Steve's interest and strength in biology and chemistry.

"Peter," Steve says slowly, "We ran the trial using my cells to form the technically-female, and then added Tony's reproductive cells."

"We didn't adopt you," Tony adds. "You're _our_ son."

* * *

**A/N:** I want to clarify a bit about Steve and Tony.

Tony _is_ Tony Stark, as he mentioned. Instead of the Afghanistan, Iron Man, Arc Reactor plot, this happened. The timing is just a little different.

They left Peter in 2001 (when he was 4), so he was born in 1997. He is now 15, as it is currently 2012.

Tony still finished college young, and so when he met Steve, Steve was a little younger than him, but not by much. I'm putting Tony at about 28, and Steve (as grad student) at about 24, in 1993. Tony would have been out of college for quite some time, and would have had ample time to take over Stark Industries, which Stane stole from him in about 1992, right before he meets Steve in 1993.

We'll say they had been working a for a few years before Peter was born, making Tony about 32, and Steve about 28 in 1997 when Peter is born. When they leave in 2001, they're 36 and 32. Now, they're 47 and 43.

Steve is still Steve Rogers, but not Captain America. May is his sister, who got her married name of Parker from Ben (obviously). They had another sister (who carried Peter), and she died when Peter was about to turn one, so in 1998.

Also, right now their personalities aren't quite true to how we know them to be. That will change, once everyone is adjusted. Obviously this is not the time for Tony to be cracking jokes. *laughs*

So let me know if that all doesn't make sense, as parts of it will be important later.


	5. Real American Cheeseburger

Peter still hasn't moved. It's been ten minutes, and he still hasn't even tried to speak. It's just, it doesn't make _sense_. Two men can't have a baby. They can adopt a baby, they can each father their own children, but they can't actually _create_ a child. That's all that's running through his head; he can't process any other thoughts.

"Peter?" Tony says, breaking the silence. "Are you okay?" He's concerned, but unsure if he should break the silence; he can see how it would be a lot to process.

Peter looks up from his cold cup of tea and stares again at his parents. "I- what?" He says blinking a few times. "I, yeah, I'm okay. I'm good," he pauses for a minute. "So you're back now?" He decides to focus on that, instead of the impossible truth they've just admitted. "It's safe?"

"Yes," Steve replies. "Since Stane's in prison now, we feel like it's safe enough for us to come back here. We're not worried that he'll even hear about it, since we haven't even told anyone we're here."

"That's why it took so long for us to come back to begin with," Tony clarifies. "We left in such a hurry, we weren't even sure what our plan was. We wanted to find out how much he knew, for sure.

"We knew he was probably aware of your existence, since it was fairly newsworthy that I had settled down and adopted a kid with another man, but we didn't know whether or not Stane suspected your true parentage. We thought the best way to keep you safe was to bring you here and to distance ourselves as much as possible, until we could find out what he knew, or even stop him."

"We couldn't figure out much," Steve admits. "Stane has a lot of power, and anything he did he could cover up. Your mother, for instance, never had a drug problem. Yet she was found in an old motel overdosed on heroin after being missing for days," he looks upset at the thought, and Peter knows it must be hard to talk about her death.

"We think he had her killed," he continues, "we think whoever was feeding Stane his information tried to implicate her in our research. He probably had her kidnapped, questioned, then killed. They couldn't have known we'd run a human trial, however, since it was only the three of us who knew. Our close friends who were working with us had only seen the paper research; we didn't even let them work in the lab work with the cells... I don't think she would have betrayed us," he adds quietly.

"It all sounds crazy, I'm sure," Tony says, noticing the overwhelmed look on Peter's face. "But this is when we first started to suspect Stane. He was always out to get me, and he seemed like a logical suspect. We were much more careful after that; we kept out of the public eye, focused on raising you, and left our research. We wanted to investigate Stane further, but we couldn't find much.

"I mean, at the same time, nothing else was happening. So after a few years, we went back to our research. We wanted to try the opposite process, using female cells to create male sex cells. This was when things started to go wrong again. So we planted some false information with each of our friends, and when someone went after one of the false leads, we knew who was leaking information."

"That's when we had a break in, that night we brought you here," Steve explains. "So we disappeared. We didn't mention it to anyone but May and Ben. From then on we tried to find a way to stop Stane. We had to move around a lot, especially when we were in urban areas. Then last year we helped uncover the information on his double dealing. We'd been staying in the Middle East for a while, and the opportunity arose."

"Wow, that's a lot to take in," Peter says, trying to process everything he's been told. "So my mom, she wasn't my mom," he changes the subject to what's really on his mind; he's certainly glad they're back, but not that they are the details of it all don't seem as important. What really seems relevant is the fact that his fathers are his actual fathers.

"Right. She carried you, but only as a surrogate," Steve explains. "She's really just your Aunt, like May," he smiles at May, grateful of his sister's understanding.

"Yeah," Tony agrees. "I guess your papa is actually your mama," he teases, cracking a smile and poking Steve in the side. Steve adopts his 'Tony, this is a serious matter' face, but then he just grins and shakes his head, knowing it's just how his husband is.

Peter is kind of glad; it helps to relieve some of the tension in the air. Then, he starts laughing uncontrollably. It all seems so surreal; his dads are back, they're sitting here in front of him, and they're telling him they're actually his biological parents.

His Uncle Ben and Aunt May are both looking at him like they're concerned he's lost it, but this just makes him laugh harder. He's sure it has something to do with nerves and the overload of information, and he knows he needs to stop. He tries to slow his breathing, and takes deep breaths in and out. He drinks some of his tea, and that helps, too.

Eventually he's able to stop laughing all together, and he goes back to sitting quietly. Steve and Tony look unsure of themselves, like they want to ask him if he's okay, or if he has any question, then Steve starts smiling at him.

"I remember this one time, when you were almost a year old," he says, still smiling, "and you just wouldn't stop giggling. Your dad had gotten a box in the mail, and when he was unpacking it, you just started laughing. You were sitting in your high chair, watching him, and you thought it was the greatest thing. He'd pop some of the bubble wrap, or tear up a piece of paper, and you'd just fall over on your tray of Cheerios, laughing uncontrollably."

"I remember that!" Tony interjects excitedly. "You thought that was better than any toy we'd given you," he says, laughing fondly at the memory. "I feel like that was yesterday," he adds wistfully.

"Peter, do you have any other questions?" Steve asks, back in the moment.

"No, I don't think so," he says slowly. "You're my dads, and you're back. But uh, what now?"

"Well," Steve answer, "we'll have to go prove to the government that we aren't dead, and we're going to try to find a place near here."

"Oh that's good."

"Yeah, we were actually talking to your aunt and uncle," Tony says tentatively, "and we were thinking that, if you'd like, you could come stay with us. If that's okay with you. We don't want you to feel pressured, or anything; we know this is your home," he rambles, trying to let Peter know it's his decision. "But we want to look for a house around here, so that if you want to stay with us, it wouldn't be too far from your school, or your friends."

"I, well, I think I'd like that," he glances at his aunt and uncle for their approval, not wanting to offend the people who raised him like their own.

"We'll support whatever decision you make, Peter, you know that," Aunt May says smiling.

Uncle Ben nods, too. Peter isn't sure how the older man feels about this. He hasn't said anything, but Peter can imagine it all seems pretty strange to someone like him; it's strange even to him.

"Then, yeah," Peter says more surely, "once you've found a place, I think I'd like to come stay with you. We could catch up, I've missed you."

"Great," Steve says happily, Tony beaming beside him.

"Now, I'm starving," Tony announces. "Who wants to go out for dinner? I could really go for a good, American cheeseburger. There has to be a good place around here. My treat?"

Fifteen minutes later, and the five of them are walking down the street to the local diner. The rain has temporarily subsided, but they have their umbrellas just in case. The diner has it's 'Please Seat Yourself' sign up, so they find an empty booth to crowd into.

Peter's back is to the television up in the corner, but he sees Steve grab Tony's forearm for his attention, eyes looking up toward the small, old, screen. Tony stops mid-sentence in his conversation with Uncle Ben, as his eyes follow the blonde's. Soon the rest of the family looks up curiously.

Peter feels sick. On the program Bill O'Reilly is seated at his news desk, and there's a picture of Stane up next to him, with the headline 'Former Stane Industries President/CEO/Owner Taking Case to Appellate Court' underneath it. He can see that O'Reilly is fired up about it, so he knows Stane is probably trying to appeal based on some legal issue during his trial.

"That trial was flawless," Tony whispers angrily. "He can't fight it. He won't get out, and he won't serve any less time than he's been given."

"He's a terrorist," Steve adds incredulously. "The only reason he wasn't tried as one is because of his power."

"Plus, he's still in a maximum security prison, he still can't get out, and he doesn't know we're here," Tony responds, sounding more like he's trying to reassure himself. "Everything will be fine."

Peter still feels sick about it, though. Something just doesn't seem right.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm excited, I think I have a super clear idea of where this is headed for a while. But I'm a little worried I'll be having to add some filler chapters here and there, but who doesn't love some angst and fluff and domestic!Stony?


	6. Jackets with Elbow Pads

**A/N: It's late, I'm sorry if there are any mistakes in here. If you see any, let me know and I'll fix them.**

* * *

It's been a few months now, and most of Peter's life hasn't changed; for the most part, his routine is the same. Steve and Tony have been staying in the spare bedroom, since they're currently in the process of remodeling the house they bought. The new place is a few blocks closer to his school than this one, and a little bit nicer; he figures his parents still have most of their money in the bank from before they left.

They've also been trying to help out around the house, they buy groceries a lot, and they've been paying professionals to come fix things up. Peter knows they feel bad for having left them with a child to raise, it can't have been cheap.

The most exciting occurrence for Peter has not only been finishing his sophomore year of high school, but that for the summer he's earned an internship at OsCorp Industries. He's hoping it will help to boost his résumé for college, but he also does truly find it interesting. The section he's been assigned to specializes in genetics and biomedical engineering, and he's looking forward to exploring that field. He'd also applied to work in their weapons development department, but it had been as more of a favor for his dad, since he doesn't really care for weaponry as much as biochemistry. They're both pretty excited for him; they're proud that he's achieved so much, and Steve's also pretty excited to see his son follow in his footsteps.

They haven't heard much more about Stane's appeal, but whenever it comes up Tony makes some kind of joke about it, and assures everyone that nothing will even happen with it. He can tell that, like himself, his papa is still stressed about the situation; Peter can tell he gets his worrying tendencies from Steve. Tony is much more casual, and Peter often feels that while it seems he's not taking a situation seriously, it's more of a defense mechanism than anything else.

"I don't understand why you _aren't_ more worried about it," he overhears Steve saying one morning in the kitchen. He's in the living room watching TV, and if he leans forward he can see his dads by the coffee machine.

"Because, Captain Crunch," Tony says, wrapping his arms around the taller man's waist with his face pressed in between his shoulder blades, "I've been worried about that man for more than fifteen years; I want to live my life, watch our son grow up, and sit on a porch with a wrinkly old you when we can barely hear each other speak."

Steve laughs at the nickname, Tony's been known to get pretty creative with those, but he also takes into consideration the idea of what the genius is saying.

"I understand where you're coming from," he says, twisting around to kiss the top of the smaller man's head. "I just, I can't help but worry."

"I know, but we'll keep an eye on the situation," Tony assures his husband. "He still doesn't know we're here, and he doesn't know we had anything to do with uncovering those weapons in Gulmira. We could go the rest of our lives without him even _seeing_ us anyway, even if he did get out of prison. We could get teaching jobs, keep our heads low. I'm sure no one remembers me anyway, I haven't been seen on page six in close to two decades," he jokes about his former self, prepping the coffee maker.

"It would be nice," Steve says. "To teach, I mean. If we were at a good university, we'd even have access to a lot of really good equipment and labs. I'd love to start working on some new projects," Steve sounds a little excited at the prospect.

"And you'd look so sexy in some nerdy glasses and a jacket with elbow pads," Tony winks at the blonde man, who still blushes when Tony says things like that, and pours himself a cup of coffee.

After that, Peter realizes what time it is, and that he should probably get going to his internship. He turns off the TV and heads into the kitchen to grab some toast and coffee before he leaves.

"Hey, Peanut," Tony says, smiling at the nickname he'd used for his son since he'd been born. "You off to work?"

"Yeah, I have to be there by nine today," he answers as he pops a piece of bread and a pop tart into the toaster. "We're working with spiders right now; it kinda freaks me out, to be honest."

Steve pulls a face at the thought of having to study spiders so closely, and Tony laughs at him.

"It's not funny," Steve tries to defend, "I got bit by a spider when I was a kid. They've irked me ever since," he looks at Tony for a second, then sticks his tongue out at the older man.

"It's okay, Pops," Peter assures his dad, "I'm not exactly stoked to be working so closely with them, either," he says again.

The toaster makes a warning noise, and then up pops his toast and pop tart. He wraps them in a napkin, before pouring some coffee into a disposable to-go cup; he'll have time to actually enjoy breakfast once he's on the subway.

"I still don't get how you two drink your coffee black," Steve thinks out loud. "Especially you, Peter. Most kids don't even _like_ coffee, let alone without any milk or sugar."

"Because, Cocoa Pebbles, I don't know if you can even call what you drink coffee," the brunette teases. "It's mostly milk and sugar," he adds, pecking him on the cheek.

Peter rolls his eyes at the two men who still act like teenagers, and grabs his backpack and skateboard from next to the kitchen table.

"I'm gonna get going," he announces, before going to hug his dads, who both kiss him on the top of the head; he knows better than to protest by now.

"Have fun," Steve encourages, smiling.

"Stay out of trouble," Tony warns with a wink.

Peter just smiles at them, and heads out the door. He figures that if he leaves now, he should have no problem getting to the OsCorp tower by eight forty-five.

While he sits on the train he eats his, now-cold, breakfast and thinks about all of the sudden changes in his life. He's pretty happy, and he's excited to feel like his life is how it's supposed to be; soon he'll be just a normal high school junior living with his parents. He's just about finished with his coffee when the train comes to a slow halt at his stop. He works his way through the crowded car and subway station, and up to the street, where he tosses his cup into a practically overflowing trash can.

Looming over him is the newly remolded OsCorp tower, all sleek lines and dark glass, with a large, glowing sign at the top. He makes his way through the revolving doors, and makes sure his badge is fixed visibly to his chest; he doesn't want to have any unnecessary run-ins with security today.

He already feels good about himself for being not only on time, but _early_, and he's not the only one who notices; Gwen, the leader of their intern group, actually _congratulates_ him on his achievement when he finds himself in the same elevator as the young blonde.

"Oh you know me, I just like to mix things up, keep ya on your toes," he jokes, already feeling like a dumbass as the words come out of his mouth. This is why he just doesn't speak, especially to girls like Gwen.

Still, she gives a chuckle, and he appreciates that she does so; it makes the last part of the elevator ride just a little less awkward. They wait with a few other interns, and by nine everyone has gathered, ready to get to work.

They spend most of the day with Dr. Connors in the lab, as he explains what work is being done with the spiders. It's mostly calculations and reading, since they're still researching what kinds of effects the spiders could have on humans. At the end of the day, however, Connors takes them into the lab where the spiders are being kept.

Though disturbing, Peter can't help but notice how beautiful the whole thing is. The spiders are all spinning their webs under a black light, giving the set up an eerie blue glow. He misses the beginning of what the doctor is saying, but is drawn from his daydream when another student trips and falls into the delicate, web-covered frames.

The spiders all begin to move and some of them fall to the floor. Connors looks concerned, almost panicky, and he ushers them out of the room as quickly as possible. Peter is one of the last to make his way out of the room, and as he does, he feels a sharp, shooting pain on the back of his hand. He jerks his hand up and, from the corner of his eye, thinks he sees a spider scurrying away.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, this will all start to pick up soon! I'm pretty excited about it haha**


	7. Coffee Coffee Coffee

**This took way longer than I intended it to! I'm sorry! I've had a ridiculously busy week at school, and whenever I've sat down to write, someone or another decides it is crucial that they speak with me. I rushed it out at the end, so let me know if there are any terrible mistakes in it!**

**Any way, here's a Steve and Tony focused chapter! **

**Let me know what you think! Reviews help me focus! ;)**

* * *

"How are we out of coffee?" Tony exclaims when he goes to make the third pot that morning.

Steve sighs. "Maybe because you've made enough for a small army?" He says, only half joking.

"Yeah, but I _need_ it," the older man whines, more like a moody teenager than a genius who's pushing fifty. "I won't be able to get any work done without it," he adds as an excuse.

"Well I need some things from the store," the blonde thinks out loud, "if you'd like to go buy _more_ coffee," he offers.

Tony begins to nod excitedly in agreement. "We can even stop at Starbucks on the way," he says, hopeful that his husband will agree.

Steve just laughs and nods his head. He knows that Starbucks is one of Tony's favorite places in the world; literally, since everywhere they'd been in the last decade ha d at least had one of the coffeehouses for Tony to get his coffee fix from.

"Of course," he agrees. "But I'd also like to stop by a book store, and maybe an art supply store for some drawing supplies. I get kind of bored being home all day. And when we move into the new house I'd like to be able to decorate."

"But Starbucks first," Tony urges, already tugging on his shoes.

Twenty minutes later they're walking out of the favored coffee shop. Tony is clutching his, of course black, coffee like it's his life support. Steve, on the other hand, is more casually holding his iced white mocha by his side; it seems too hot for Tony's "real coffee."

They're heading toward an area that has a lot more interesting shops; like book stores, art supplies shops, vintage shops, and record stores. While this isn't Tony's favorite way to spend a day, he's content to just make jokes ("Do you really want that sweater, Grandpa?") and drink his coffee while Steve has fun exploring the shops. Plus, he does find the record store interesting, since they have a lot of vintage records from his favorite bands, like ACDC and Black Sabbath.

They head home around four in the afternoon, having stopped for lunch at a small Mediterranean restaurant; one of Tony's favorite foods abroad had been the street wraps stuffed with things like shawarma, gyro, and falafel. They'd also made the necessary stop at the grocery store, in which Tony got his promised coffee, and Steve picked out the actual necessities; like bread, milk, and orange juice. It had taken quite a bit of work on his part to convince Tony that no, they didn't _need_ Nutella, Oreos, marshmallows, or cereal with super heroes on the box.

"Peter should be home soon," Tony observes when he checks his watch. "It's almost five. I think he was going to be finished around three thirty or four today," he adds thoughtfully.

"We should make dinner for him and Ben and May," Steve suggests. "They all had pretty long days today, and I feel like we've been eating out a lot."

"You always want to be so healthy," Tony teases, "you're like an old man. We should go back and get that sweater, the old man one from the thrift shop. You can wear it when you're a teacher, instead of the blazer with the elbow pads. And you can talk really monotonously. It'll be perfect."

Steve is used to his husband's teasing by now, so he just laughs it off. "I'm not the one with grey hair," he adds playfully, and runs a few fingers through the hair near the dark haired man's temple.

"It's not _all_ grey; it's just a _little_ grey. It makes me look experienced, worldly."

"Oh well in that case, let's call Just For Men; they can put you in their next Touch Of Grey commercial."

Tony just sticks his tongue out at Steve, before switching his shopping to the other hand, and lacing his fingers through the blonde's.

As they walk up to the house, they see Peter making his way down the street. He's walking rather slowly, instead of riding the skateboard that's tucked under his arm. As he gets closer, the couple notices that he looks sick; he's shaking like a leaf, and his brow is coated with a wet sheen.

"Hey, Peter?" Steve asks concernedly, "You okay, kid?"

He doesn't answer for a minute, just shakes his head like he's coming out of a daze. "Yeah, I just really don't feel well."

"Yeah, you don't look so good, Pete," Tony studies him. "Is it something you ate? Or the flu?" He doesn't think it could be the flu, though, since they're nowhere close to flu season.

"I'm not sure," Peter is speaking very quietly. "I think I'm just going to try and get to bed early," he says as he walks away, heading up to the door.

Steve turns to Tony.

"Should we be concerned about it?" Steve asks him. "Do you think he's sick? Or is he under the influence of anything?"

Tony thinks about it for a minute.

"I'm pretty sure he's not on drugs, and he's certainly not drunk. I think he'll be fine," he pauses for a minute and shifts the groceries in his hand. "We should let him sleep for now, and see if he wants dinner later."

Steve nods and stares after Peter. "That sounds like a good idea. We can also talk to Ben and May about it, see if this is normal."

Tony agrees, and they head inside with their bags. Peter is upstairs, and the shower is running.

"Maybe he's just having a long day," Steve observes, putting away the milk and juice in the fridge. "Tony? What's this?" He asks, pulling a jar of Cookie Butter out of the bag.

"Oh, it's just, um, like peanut butter," he says, looking away from Steve.

"Made from cookies?" He asks, eyebrow raised.

"Um, kind of?"

"How did you even get this through the check out?" He says unbelievingly. He reads the label, "Tony! This all sugar! It's oil and sugar and cookie ingredients," he laughs and shakes his head. "Your sweet tooth is ridiculous."

Tony just grins at him, happy that he got at least one ridiculously unhealthy item past Steve. Then the hum of the pipes dies down, and they hear a few doors open and shut.

"Well, I hope he gets a good nap in," Tony says. "And at least it's Friday, and he has the weekend to rest and get healthy."

Steve hums in agreement, and the two men quietly go about prepping dinner. After a while, Ben and May come in from work.

"Did Peter come home yet?" May asks, noticing the boy's absence.

"Yeah," Tony responds while chopping up the tomatoes for the marinara sauce. "He's not feeling well, so he's taking a nap."

"Is he sick?" Ben asks, seeming surprised.

"We think so," Steve says. "Is that abnormal? He seemed pretty weak and shaky when he got home."

"He looked exhausted," Tony adds. "He was even sweating."

"That is strange," May comments, concern crossing her face. "He's always been small for his age, but he's always been pretty healthy. He almost never gets sick, and rarely is it more than a cold."

Steve's brow furrows at that. He's actually more than a little upset that he doesn't know things like that.

"Well, we'll see how he's doing when he wakes up. We thought we'd let him sleep until dinner, and then see how he feels," Tony informs them.

They both nod, and then leave the kitchen to go clean up for dinner.

Steve and Tony get the chicken parmesan into the oven, and while it's baking they prep the salad and pasta. Ben and May helping each other set the table, when they all hear a loud noise and some muffled cursing.

"Hey, Pete?" Steve calls out. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" He yells back. "I'm fine! I just, uh, I, gimme a minute!"

They hear a lot of shuffling, and the sound of some more things dropping. He spews a few more curse words, causing May and Steve to cringe a little, but they're also incredibly concerned. A few minutes later, the boy appears in the kitchen, looking visibly shaken.

"What happened?" Tony asks, taking in the water stains splashed across his son's clothes.

"I, uh, the sink broke," he says, still looking a little stunned as he says it.

"What do you mean?" Ben asks him. "We just replaced the faucet a few weeks ago, remember?"

"I, yeah, I know, but it just, it came off."

"Peter," Steve says steadily, "are you okay?"

Peter just starts shaking his head, and begins to ramble on about spiders, and genetics experiments, and being bitten, and feeling sticky. He's speaking so quickly, the four adults in the room are having a hard time following what the teen is saying. He finishes by sticking out his hand, which has a small, yet distinct, bite mark.


	8. Killer Reflexes

**Sorry for the wait! I've been so busy! I know exactly what I want for this sotry, but I keep getting writer's block when I'm trying to flesh it all out!**

* * *

Steve takes his hand lightly, and examines it closer. Tony is watching, his gaze focused unwaveringly on his son's hand. There, on the top of his right hand, underneath the knuckle of his index finger, is a swollen, red lump. Upon colder examination it proves to have two small punctures near the center. The area around it fades from an angry, irritated red, to a flushed pink. Overall it is no more than the size of a nickel. It has no signs of infection, and if Peter hadn't mentioned it, they probably wouldn't have even noticed it.

"And this is from a spider in the OsCorp lab?" Steve asks, still unsure of the story the boy had just stumbled through.

Peter nods quickly, clearly shaken by the effects the bite seems to have had on him. On the subway home, he'd started to feel sick, and things kept sticking to his hands.

"Do you think we should take him to the hospital?" May asks, looking between Steve and Peter.

"No!" Peter all but shouts, before cringing. "Sorry, I mean, no. I don't think it's necessary. The spider isn't any known, natural species. Doctors won't have anti-venom for it. And I think if it were going to seriously harm me, we'd already know. If anything, I keep feeling better."

At that moment, as Tony is about to give his opinion, Peter's hand darts past his face. When the boy slowly retracts it, they can all see the small fly he has by its wings.

Even Peter looks surprised, as if he wasn't processing the action until it had already happened. Then after a moment of everyone staring, Peter blanches and drops the fly as quickly as he caught it. He glances at the faces watching him.

"I'm starving," he announces, and eyes the oven. "How long until that chicken parm is done?"

"Peter, don't you want to talk more about this?" Tony asks him while he checks the chicken in the oven.

"I don't know what there is to talk about," Peter says, sounding a little helpless. "It doesn't look like I'm dying, so we should just see what happens."

"I just don't know if that's the best approach to something like a bite from some kind of mutated spider!" Steve says, always the cautious one.

"Seriously?" Peter says, sounding snappier than his usual demeanor. "I'm _starving_. Can we please just eat? I don't think we need to worry right now, Pops."

Tony looks tense, like he isn't sure how to handle a moody teenager he's had no experience with. He makes eye contact with Steve, pleading with him to back off for the time being.

"Peter," Ben says carefully, having seen the exchange between his brothers-in-law, "we just care about you. You may think it's nothing, but we can't be too sure, you know."

"Yeah, I know," he says resignedly. "If I feel sick or anything, I'll make sure you know," he adds.

They spend the rest of the meal in silence. May shares a story of something that happened at work, and Steve and Tony briefly mention their outing, but most of the meal is spent with a slight tension hanging over the kitchen table. Eyes seem to keep darting back to the youngest member of the family; as if they're waiting for a sign of illness or abnormality.

All of a sudden, Steve, to Peter's right, nudges his glass of iced tea off the edge of the table. They see it topple as the tea splashes out, and Steve and May visibly cringe and freeze, awaiting the crash of the glass meeting tile, but nothing. After an elongated moment of waiting, the biologist looks to his left side, where the glass should have shattered. Instead, he sees Peter grasping it tightly, well above the floor. On the tile is the spilled tea and ice, pooling like a puddle after a rain storm.

It remains quiet, as everyone is surprised by the quick save.

"Hey, you've got killer reflexes today, kid," Tony tries to break the ice.

Peter shakes his head and tries to hand the glass to Steve, but when his father tries to take it from him, it's actually _stuck_ to Peter's hand.

"Hey, Pete? Do you want to let go?" Steve asks, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible.

Peter makes a loud, frustrated noise. "This is what was happening in the bathroom! I don't know why it happens so randomly! I can't control it!" Peter yells, aggravated by his lack of control over his body.

"It's okay, Peter," Tony tries to reassure him. "Why don't you just try to put it down gently on the table?"

Peter slowly lowers his hand and relaxes his grip, at which point his hand is able to release the glass.

"I just, I don't _understand_," he says quietly. "Does it have to do with the spider? Is that even _possible_?" He looks down at his hand, examining the small bite mark.

"What kind of spider did you say they are?" Steve asks.

"They're not really any kind of spider, I guess. They've been bred from mutated spiders, they're their own new species," he answers, reiterating what Dr. Connors had told the group of interns.

"What's the goal of this?" Steve questions further, hoping to make a connection.

"They want spiders that have venom that can _heal_ instead of _kill_," Peter supplies, curiously watching his father think.

Tony looks at Steve, realization spreading across his face.

"You don't think?" He says to the blonde at his side.

"I don't know," he says quickly, glancing over to the genius. "It's been a while since I've studied anything like that, and I've _never_ worked with spiders or their venom, but," he trails off, hoping the silence supplies the answer he can't quite form with words. "I think we've got our new project," he finishes.

They both look at Peter, who looks a little scared, having understood the gist of their exchange.

"I'll look into getting a lab set up in the new place," Tony mutters. "We'll need a work space. I think the basement should be big enough."

Steve just nods, already trying to think of what equipment he'll need, and Tony keeps talking to himself, about specifications and work that will need to be done.

"So, um, well this is weird," Peter says, not meaning to actually be funny.

It comes out that way, apparently, and soon Tony and Steve are cracking up. Peter can't help but smile, and Ben and May watch on in mild amusement mixed with worry.

Tony sobers a little before adding "I think things might get a little weirder, Peanut Brittle."

"One day," Steve interjects, "I'm going to come up with some strange nick name for you, and no matter how much you hate it, I will make it stick," he plants a kiss on the smaller man's head as he says it, before starting to clean up the spilled tea.

"Can't," Tony announces. "It requires a certain level of wit and sarcasm, which I'm unparalleled in. You know that, Stevie Wonder Boy."

Steve tries to object, given the horrible name the man had just created, but Tony just leans up and kisses him to silence him.

Steve shakes his head, used to this back and forth for the past twenty years. Even Peter's gotten used to their banter, and he smiles when it makes the tension in the air seem to dissipate afterwards. It really feels like a family.

"When will the new place be ready?" Peter asks, nervous but excited about the change.

"Well, probably in the next week or so," Steve answers. "We were hoping to get settled before your new school year starts."

"That's pretty much on time, too" Tony adds, "but we'll be doing a little bit more once we move in to get the lab set up. It'll probably need to be a little more complex than we'd planned for."

They've finished eating, and Ben and May are already upstairs getting ready to go to sleep, since they work so early.

The boys are all cleaning up and doing dishes, when a spider drops down suddenly in front of Steve, who yelps in surprise. Tony reaches out with a paper towel and grabs it for him.

"Don't worry, your knight in shining armor is here," Tony teases, before tossing the crumpled ball of paper towel in the trash.

"Oh hey, that reminds me," Steve says, turning toward Peter. "Once we get the lab set up, do you think you could get one of those spiders?"


	9. Pineapple Pizza

**So, so sorry for the wait! Every time I try to write, or proofread, someone insists on dragging me away. That, coupled with the end of my summer courses, really just sucked away all of my time. I'm hoping to get going again, though! I'm starting my third year at college, though, so I'll probably stick to updating on weekends, or when I'm babysitting haha.**

* * *

Peter isn't sure how he ended up here. He's supposed to be at the small celebration that's being held for the interns in the break room. It's to celebrate the end of their summer program, the last day of which is today, and mark the start of the new school year next week.

Instead, however, he's trying to casually, yet unnoticeably, follow one of the lab workers down the hall toward the spider lab. He's been trying to get into the room for weeks, but has had no luck. He'd told his dads weeks ago that he'd try, but Dr. Connors hadn't brought them back to that lab; he seemed to have decided it was too delicate and dangerous of a project.

The keypad is a puzzle of sorts, which he doesn't know how to complete. Since today is his last chance, he's hoping he can catch what the man, whose security badge says "Jared," is putting in. He's noticed that along with the increased strength and speed, his vision and hearing is getting better. This is particularly helpful, because he now has a good angle to see the keypad, and is watching the lab worker slide the targets into place.

With the necessary knowledge he needs to get into the room, he slips back to the small gathering, grateful that no one seemed to notice his absence.

"Where'd you go?" He hears a cheerful and curious voice behind him, and he's startled out of his, apparently misconceived, thoughts.

"Oh, hey," he says, spinning to address the blonde behind him. "I just had to go to the bathroom," he lies as he rubs his ear and glances between his red cup of soda and the accusing stare of Gwen Stacy.

"Down the hall?"

What is she doing? Spying on him?

"I, yeah," he tries to improvise. "I wanted to walk around a bit. I'm not fond of parties."

He knows it's a bullshit excuse, but he's hoping she'll drop it.

"Ah, well this is quite the rager," she agrees sarcastically, smirking.

He laughs at the joke, and they carry on their conversation until Peter's phone rings.

He pulls it out of his pocket and glances at before motioning to Gwen that he's going to step outside with the call.

As he walks out of the break room, he disables the alarm he'd set earlier. He holds it up to his ear, as if he's answering a call, but once he rounds the corner, he shoves it back into his pocket and makes his way back to the spider lab as quickly as possible.

He checks to make sure that no one is around, or watching him, and then he walks as casually up to the door as possible. Peter isn't sure what he's expecting, but once he slides the combination into place he's relieved that the lock clicks softly, and he's able to push the door open.

Slowly entering the lab, he checks to make sure there aren't any other employees working and, once deciding he's in the clear, he approaches the intricate webbing in the center of the room. He can hear his heart pounding in his chest, and the rhythmic beat of it reminds him of when the rain on his roof on stormy nights. Peter tries to control the nervous shaking of his hands, and breathes as slowly and deeply as possible, while pulling the small bottle out of his pocket.

It's small enough to hide inconspicuously in his jeans' pockets, and it's perforated at the top for air. He unscrews the top, and holds it up to the webbing, allowing two of the spiders to slip inside, before quickly screwing the lid back on.

Once the young scientist is sure he has what he needs, and has the spiders safely tucked inside his pocket, he leaves the lab cautiously. He feels too weird about going back to the party with two genetically modified spiders stashed in his pocket, so Peter grabs his messenger bag and skateboard from the locker room, and tries to sneak away.

"Where are you going?" Comes that same voice cheerfully curious voice from behind him.

"Hey, Gwen," he starts, trying to formulate a lie. "That call was from my dad. I guess, a uh, water pipe broke, or something like that. So I kind of have to go, um, home, and help fix up some things. Move stuff in the basement, and you know, um, help out," he finishes weakly. He hopes she'll just accept it, and let him leave.

"Oh, okay. Well, good luck with that, then. I guess I'll see you when school starts," she says before turning on her heel and walking briskly back to the party.

Peter can sense that she didn't totally believe him, and thinks she might even be a little irritated with him. He's confused by that, too, since she's never really been interested in his whereabouts or personal life before. As she walks away, not looking back, he snaps a quick picture with the camera he's had around his neck since the party.

While the subway ride home is uneventful, he still feels weird about having the two spiders hidden in his pocket. He keeps waiting for something to go wrong; for some small disaster to occur, in which he loses the spiders. Instead, he arrives at his stop, safe and sound.

When he gets off the train, and walks up the stairs and out onto the street. Being August in New York, it's sweltering hot, and it's so humid it feels like rain is hanging stagnantly in the air around him. He's actually pretty sure the walk back to his house might kill him, but he knows if Uncle Ben were here he'd probably tell him to stop complaining, it isn't that bad.

With his skateboard, he's able to get home pretty quickly, especially since the new house is a few block closer to the city, and his school; he's glad he'll be able to get home quicker on the bad weather days that are sure to come in fall and winter. As he approaches the house, he sees Tony at the front of the small lawn, pulling the mail out of the old-fashioned box; it's printed like an American flag, which Tony picked out with Peter at a home-improvement store as some kind of joke for Steve. Peter doesn't get the inside joke, but it made Steve laugh, blush, and scowl when he saw it.

When Tony hears the wheels of Peter's skateboard, he glances up and shoots his son a big smile.

"Hey, Spider-boy," he teases. "You're home early; did the party go okay?"

Peter throws him a mock-glare for the nickname.

"Uh yeah, I just wanted to get home. I got the things Papa had mentioned he needed, so I kinda just wanted to get outta there."

The older man hesitates for a minute, before he gets what his son means.

"Oh! You mean the oh," he says with realization. "Okay, let's get inside then."

They walk up the path quickly, and when they get inside Peter is relieved to feel the cool blast of the air conditioning. He sets his messenger bag down by the bottom of the stairs, and kicks his shoes off next to it.

"Hey, Spangles!" Tony calls out. "Can you get down here?"

"Oh my _god_, Tony!" He yells back as he comes down the stairs. "That was _one_ time! _We didn't_ _have anything else._"

"Whatever you say," he eggs him on, earning a warning glare from the blonde.

Peter just watches them, unsure of what they're even talking about, but he thinks it's probably related to the mailbox. He pulls the small jar out of his pocket and clears his throat, interrupting the silent argument the two seem to be having. When Tony remembers why he called his husband down to begin with, he gets excited.

"Oh yeah!" He exclaims. "Peter got the spider!"

Steve perks up at the news, and turns to Peter.

"Can I see?" He asks, putting his hand out to take the jar from his son.

"Yeah," Peter says, handing him the spiders. "I actually got two, I didn't know if that might be helpful. Also, I thought I'd fill you in on their lab, and how their webs are set up. I'm not sure if it's relevant to their survival."

"Yeah, actually," Steve agrees, "I'm glad you got two. And we'll try to recreate that environment, just in case, until I have a better understanding of their physiology."

"Okay great. Hopefully you can figure out what's going on with me," he says, glancing down at the small spider bite that still hadn't healed.

"Yeah, let's go down to the lab now, get these guys set up," he starts to walk to the basement door, grimacing at the sight of the two spiders in the jar. "I'm still not their biggest fan, though," he adds with a laugh.

"Yeah, trust me, I'm not either," he motions to the ever-present bump on his hand.

"Oh well I, for one, _love_ spiders," Tony interjects.

"You do not," Steve calls him on it. "You're just trying to be contradictory."

He leans down to give the shorter man a kiss on the lips to let him know he's not actually mad at him, and shakes the jar next to his face, effectively causing him to jump.

The three make their way down to the basement, which Tony had renovated for the two of them to work in. The lab area is currently set up for Steve to run tests in, so much of the equipment Tony had ordered for himself is still in boxes; he does have a small are set up with his computers, though.

Straight away Peter starts explaining the complicated framework and the eerie glow, which Steve assumes is a black light. They get the temperature of the lab down to the cool, dry climate of the spider lab at OsCorp, even though it's a little chilly for them.

While Steve and Peter are reorganizing and prepping for blood work and genetic tests, Tony gets the computers up and running, and works on modifying some of the codes. All of a sudden he gets an excited look on his face, and starts typing away at something rapidly.

"I wonder if I can finish," he mutters to himself. "I just had a few more tweaks to make," the genius trails off. "Ah-hah!" He exclaims suddenly, finishing up a few sequences.

"What're you 'ah-hah'-ing at?" Steve questions him, examining his face closely.

"JARVIS," he states matter-of-factly.

"Jarvis?" Peter is confused, "who's he?"

"JARVIS," Tony explains, writing the acronym on a white-board, "is an AI I was working on a long time ago. He was nearly complete, when we had to leave. Over the years, I've managed to add and fix up a little bit at a time, but I've neglected him in recent years. I was just hoping now, that he might be able to help you. He can run tests, diagnostics, scans, hypotheticals, equations, everything. I just have to get some equipment set up for him."

"What's his name stand for?"

Steve laughs when he remembers. "Just A Really Very Intelligent System," he adds for Tony. "He named him after the butler he had growing up."

Peter looks at his dad skeptically. "You had a butler?"

"Hey," Tony defends. "My dad was a wealthy man. A _busy,_ wealthy man. Jarvis was more like my dad in most respects."

"Oh. Well then I'm glad we have him on board now," Peter laughs.

"_Glad to hear it, Mr. Parker," _comes a distinctly British voice from the computer speaker.

Peter and Steve both look surprised, but Tony is beaming.

"And we're glad to hear you can hear us!" He says excitedly. "Pretty soon, I'll have him wired throughout the house."

While Tony keeps working on getting the computers set up and JARVIS's systems all online, Steve and Peter go back to getting ready to run some basic tests. They start with taking a small amount of Peter's blood, as well as some blood from the spider, and some venom. It seems incredible that they even have needles small enough to do so, but Steve is able to work with ease.

Tony helps them with the new equipment, and allows JARVIS to run the genetic tests.

"Why don't we go upstairs and get dinner ready?" Tony asks. "I'm _starving_."

"You are _not _starving, Tony. We had lunch a few hours ago," he shakes his head, laughing.

"Yeah, so? Let's order a pizza," he pulls out his phone to call it in before Steve can even object. "Oh, and JARVIS?"

"_Yes, sir?_"

"Can you let us know when you find anything interesting, or when a test series is complete?"

"_Of course, sir. Would you also like me to order dinner? I can save all of your preferences._"

"That'd be great, J, thanks," Tony grins. "Call that little Italian place on the corner by the market. Get a cheese with pineapple for me," Steve pulls a face at that one, "and a pepperoni for Steve and Petey."

"_Right away, sir._"

"How does he know what place that is?" Steve asks. "That couldn't have been vaguer."

"He's an extension of _me_; he just knows," Tony winks at his husband, and leaves it at that.

The small family watches Jeopardy while they wait for the pizza to arrive, and eat their pizza on the couch. They're just waiting on JARVIS to finish the tests. About half-way through Wheel of Fortune, the AI system mutes the television, much to Steve's surprise.

"_Sirs, you may want to come down now. There's something of interest in the blood work of Mr. Parker._"


	10. Glowing Blue Lights

"_Sirs, you may want to come down now. There's something of interest in the blood work of Mr. Parker._"

Peter looks up at the ceiling before he speaks. It just feels like that's where JARVIS is.

"Is it interesting in a bad way?" He asks nervously. "Or just kinda, like, weird?"

"_Well, sir, I'd suggest that you decide that for yourself. I have pulled up the results of both your lab work and that of the spider's on Mr. Rogers's computer."_

Tony snorts when JARVIS says "Mr. Rogers," and makes a note to use that with the grandpa sweater material.

The crisp sound of the AI's British voice is almost unnerving. Tony gets up first to go downstairs, bringing the box of pizza with him.

"Tony," Steve says exasperatedly, "you can't bring food into a biochemical lab."

Tony looks surprised. "But I do it all the time in my workshop."

"It's not the same as an engineering workshop, Tony," Steve laughs.

"But… but I _want_ it," he doesn't know what else to say. "I'll be careful?"

Steve gives him that same exasperated glare he's been giving him for years, but relents.

"Fine," he concedes, "but when you turn into a huge, eight-legged spider-man, it's not my fault."

Tony just grins and marches down the stairs with the pizza box in victory, so Steve and Peter follow.

Steve slips his glasses on to take a better look at the data being presented to him on the screen, and does a double take. JARVIS has displayed the results of the tests Tony had set to run for Steve, including a few sections of Peter's genome. Highlighted in many sections are the nucleotide bases in his genome that are identical to those of the spider.

What makes Steve looks twice is _how many_ highlighted sections there are.

"JARVIS?" Steve calls out nervously.

"_Yes, sir?"_

"Do you have a comparable section from the Human Genome Project we can look at?"

"_Yes, sir."_

A moment later, there's a third set of DNA on the screen, and Steve's eyes widen.

Tony watches as his husband's eyes analyze the information before him, and helps him manipulate the screen and the images. He shows him how to blow it up on the larger screen next to him, and how to zoom in and out. He also gives his input on the new information, surprising Peter with his knowledge in this subject.

"I thought your degree was in electrical engineering? When did you learn all this stuff?"

"I was bored one night when your pops was out of town at a conference. I got caught up in his notes and books," he says shrugging, as if anyone can become an expert in biochemistry, genetics, and mutations overnight.

Peter just laughs and watches them continue working. While the two older men work rapidly, bouncing ideas off each other, Peter gets increasingly anxious. He's able to pick up some of what they're saying, but he can't quite keep up; and there's something they're not saying.

"So," he says slowly, to pull their attention away from the information on the screens, "from what I've heard, the spider bite has mutated my DNA?"

The two concerned fathers nod in agreement, allowing Peter to continue.

"And now I have certain DNA sequences that are identical matches to the spider's?"

They nod again, before Steve speaks up.

"Basically, yes, it appears that way. And while I'm not familiar with the genes of spiders, I'd be willing to bet that that would explain your new ability to stick to things, as well as your improved senses and agility."

"Oh, okay," Peter nods in understanding. "Well, no complaints her, I suppose." He gives a slightly nervous laugh, in hopes of lightening the mood.

"Well, I wouldn't be too relieved just yet," Steve warns, always the overly cautious type. "We don't know the full effects just yet, it could be-"

"Oh let him have fun," Tony interjects. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"That's the _point_, Tony. We don't _know_."

"But I feel fine," Peter defends. "Great, actually. Probably better than I did before."

"See?" Tony goes on. "He's _fine_. Never been better-"

Steve doesn't let him finish, he just tales the pizza box away. Tony tries to protest, but Steve silences him with a piece of pineapple off the pizza.

Peter and Steve continue to go over the data, and Steve makes sure that Peter is following. They try some more tests, especially in regards to Peter's new found abilities.

His reflexes are greatly improved, and his senses seem to be keener as well. Never the type to work out, he's also surprised at his increased strength. Steve is trying to pull up research on the physical capabilities of spiders, as well as anything in regards to the DNA sequences that match Peter's.

Meanwhile, Tony is rooting through boxes of old projects he'd pulled out of storage. They're full of scraps and parts to old, unfinished technology, and he seems very determines. Peter notices his efforts, and walks over to check it out.

"What're you trying to do?"

Tony grunts with half of his upper body still in the box, and puts up a finger to tell Peter to wait a minute. A few seconds later, he pops up, grinning at his success. He's holding some strange metal contraption, which Peter can see more of at the bottom of the box.

"I've decided to work on a new project while you two are wrapped up in this," he explains as he waves a hand around in the air. "This," he gestures to the hunk of old tech "is part of an old weapon I never finished developing. I saved them for their individual pieces. This one, for example, has a sizeable piece of plutonium in it."

"What's the plutonium for?" Peter prods, knowing his dad loves to be asked questions, since he loves to 'show off his genius,' as Steve had teasingly noted.

"It will be used in building an arc reactor. Well, a miniature one. Before I was locked out of Stark Industries, I had a team working on a much larger one, but we never really got it going. Stane insisted it wouldn't be cost-effective, and we should only pursue it if we needed some good press. I'm guessing he just wanted to keep me developing weapons for him to trade illegally. But anyway, I figured I'd try it out in a miniature form."

"What does it do exactly?"

"It's an energy source," he explains, "and a clean one at that. Right now I'm working on how to make It last longer, so after I get a plutonium one working, I might explore other elements."

"That sounds awesome. Hopefully it'll work," Peter says, fairly impressed by the concept.

"Of course it will," Tony winks at his son. "I'm directly involved with it.

Peter laughs, and then sits down to watch his fathers work, each in their element. After a few hours in the basement, Peter is getting hungry, a feeling that Tony seconds. Steve, too, is getting tired, and periodically slips his glasses off to rub lazily at his eyes.

"Hey," Tony says, glancing up from the blue circle of light he's testing, "how about I run out and grab some ice cream from the store on the corner?"

"I feel like all you like to eat is junk food," Peter teases. "Though I'm not opposed to the idea," looking hopefully at Steve as his stomach grumbles.

"Now you understand what I've been saying for years," Steve adds, "but even I have to admit it doesn't sound too bad."

"Perfect! Tony says, clapping his hands together. "You two wrap up down here, and when I get back we can have a late night movie night." He stops and looks at Peter. "I know Captain All-American over here just wants plain old chocolate, do you have any preferences? You used to love rocky road, like me, "he says proudly.

Actually, yeah," Peter laughs. "That's still my favorite."

"Perfect!" He exclaims again. "Then I'll just run down to the store. I should be back fairly quickly. I'll come down here to get you when I get back." He kisses each of them on the head, before dashing up the stairs.

Steve and Peter get to talking about a journal article Steve has dug up, with JARVIS's help, on the way spiders climb up things, and how it may be relevant to Peter's sticky hands and feet. They start to clean up, when they notice it's been almost an hour since Tony left.

"Hey, JARVIS?" Steve says, getting used to the AI.

"_Yes, sir?_" He still refuses to call him 'Steve.'

"Has Tony come back yet?" He asks worriedly.

"_No, sir. Would you like me to notify you if he does?"_

"Yeah, that'd be-" he's cut off by the doorbell ringing. "I wonder if he forgot his key. Jarvis, is that Tony?"

"I'm not sure, sir. Mr. Stark has not set up my cameras yet."

"I'll go check it," Peter offers, running up the stairs. Upon opening the door, he feels sick.

"Pops?" He calls downstairs.

Hearing the nervousness dripping from Peter's shaking voice, Steve bolts up the stairs. He sees the two men at the door and freezes.

"Are you Steve Rogers?" The cop on the right asks formally.

Steve just nods.

"Your husband has been involved in a shooting. A robber at the convenience store shot him in the chest with a shot gun when he tried to stop him."


	11. Swinging Grey Doors

"Your husband has been involved in a shooting. A robber at the convenience store shot him in the chest with a shot gun when he tried to stop him," the other officer adds. "We can explain it to you in more detail on the way to the hospital."

Steve just nods again, relieved to infer that Tony is still alive, and he and Peter rush out with the two police men.

The ride to the hospital feels long, as the two men in the back of the squad car listen to the events that led Tony to an emergency surgery. Steve listens as best he can while the officers explain it, but his worry eats away at him as they have little information on Tony's current condition. They're only able to assure him that as of forty-five minutes ago, the older man was still alive.

As they pass the convenience store, Peter sees the crime scene, the spilled contents of the grocery bag still lying on the sidewalk next to the offensively yellow police tape, and the knot in his stomach tightens as the lump in his throat makes it harder to breathe.

Eventually they arrive at the hospital, and leap out of the squad car, thanking the officers as they go. They hurry to the information desk of the emergency room to ask for whatever information they can get. After conversing with the nurses, they find out that Tony is in surgery, and that they're doing their best to pull all of the fragmented pieces of metal and bone from his chest.

"He's still alive, but he's unstable and critical," the nurse informs them.

The nurse, a kind, older woman that reminds Peter of Aunt May, leads them to the waiting room closest to the operating rooms. They're told to wait for one of the surgeons to update them, and that one should come out every so often in a surgery like this.

After what feels like an eternity of waiting, a doctor emerges from the large set of swinging doors, and Peter and Steve straighten up in their seats.

"Stark?" The doctor calls out, looking for recognition on any of the worried faces in the waiting room. Steve nods and stands up, and the surgeon makes his way over.

"Hello," the doctor says, adjusting the surgical mask around his neck. "I am Dr. Yinsen, I am one of the surgeons on Mr. Stark's team," his accent is slight, but clear.

"Steve Rogers," Steve greets, holding out his hand. "I'm Tony's husband. This is our son Peter," he says, gesturing to the boy at his side. He looks at the doctor hopefully, waiting for him to continue.

"So, your husband is still alive," he begins, much to relief of the two men in front of him, "but we do have quite a bit more work to do."

From there, the doctor launches into an explanation of the gunshot wound, and the damage it has done.

"As is typical of a shotgun wound at such close range, the tissue, muscle, bone, and organs are damaged more extensively than if it had been a handgun, due to the nature of the rounds used in shotguns. For this reason, this surgery is also more extensive. There will almost certainly be fragments of the round still left inside his chest cavity. I will come back out to update you when we know more," the thin, older man concludes, pushing his glasses back up his long nose.

They shake hands again, and he disappears behind the swinging doors. Peter notices they're the cold color of dark grey rain clouds; fitting, he thinks, for a hospital.

Steve sits back down next to Peter, feeling only marginally better. They sit in silence, until the nurse from before returns with two cups of coffee. As Steve feels the warmth of the cup seep into his fingers, he notices the name on her ID badge.

"Thank you, Peggy," he says politely. "You didn't have to," he gives a slight smile.

"I wanted to," she says, smiling gently with her red-painted lips. "I saw them bring him in, you know," she informs them, peaking their interest. "He was awake the whole time. He kept asking for you; he didn't want to pass out, he just wanted to see you. He's a fighter, I have a good feeling about him," she finishes, tucking a loose, white curl back behind her ear. Her brown eyes have a kind, warm quality that comforts Peter, and he knows she's being sincere.

She pats them both on the shoulder, and goes back to her station to work on the pile of paperwork on her desk.

Both father and son nurse their coffee slowly, absorbing the warmth and losing themselves in thought. They sit in silence for what feels like hours, and probably is. Peter can't stop moving, and keeps twisting in his seat, while Steve will get up, walk around, and then dismally slump back into the wooden chair.

Finally, they see Dr. Yinsen appear again, this time with another surgeon, smaller in build, in tow. This instantly causes Steve's stomach to drop. That just doesn't seem good.

"This is Dr. Banner," Dr. Yinsen introduces the other man, who extends his hand, looking slightly awkward. "He is a surgical resident of mine, specializing in trauma. We need to update you, as well as get your consent on a time-sensitive matter."

"Is he okay?" Steve asks as a lump forms in his throat.

"Honestly?" Dr. Yinsen asks back. "No. That's why we're out here. While we have managed to remove much of the fragments from his chest, there are still many more pieces headed into his atrial septum."

"They're too close to his heart and lungs for us to pull them out without great risk of further damaging that tissue," Dr. Banner adds seriously.

"Unfortunately, this means that his condition will worsen, as they will move closer. This will probably kill him within a week," Dr. Yinsen adds quite frankly.

"So what can you do?" Steve asks desperately. "You said you had an option; that you needed my consent on something."

"We do have a procedure we can try," Dr. Banner says cautiously, "but it's very risky."

"It is something I started working on many years ago, before coming to this country," Dr. Yinsen explains. "I was trying to help victims of bombings, whose injuries consisted of irremovable shrapnel. The technology was limited, however, and the risk of infection was too great. This would be the first time performing it here, but I do believe your husband would be an excellent candidate."

Steve doesn't know what to say. It doesn't sound safe, but it doesn't sound like they have any other options.

"What's the operation? What are you going to do? What if we don't do it?" The questions come pouring out.

"As I mentioned before, if we do not operate, if we close him back up, he will die within the next week," Yinsen answers.

Steve feels like his organs are all constricting inside his body.

"The procedure involves placing an electromagnet into his chest cavity. This would prevent the remaining fragments doing further damage. The magnet will be powered by a battery," Dr. Banner explains. "If you'd like us to go ahead, we need to get moving. This is time-sensitive."

Steve just shakes his head in disbelief, denial.

"I don't, I don't understand," he says quietly. "I, you can do it, but I just…" he trails off, picturing a hole in his husbands chest.

"We will tell you more when we are finished, then," Dr. Yinsen says, nodding his head.

"Will he be alright?" Peter finally speaks up, looking shaken and concerned.

Dr. Banner looks down at him with a sad smile.

"We'll do our best," he says, "but we can't promise anything like that."

Both doctors extend their arms again to shake hands, and disappear behind the swinging double doors again.


	12. Get Well Bears

Steve and Peter wait for so many more hours, that they lose track. There are no windows in this particular waiting room, and they both gave up on clock watching a long time ago.

Peter is slumped, uncomfortable and over-tired, in the hospital chair; the scratchy blue and green fabric is rough against his neck, and the hard wood arms restrict his movement. Steve is hunched over, elbows on his knees with his face resting in his hands. He presses on his eyes with the heel of his hand, and feels ready to tear his hair out.

Every time the swinging double doors open their heads shoot up, but every time it's not their doctors. Instead, they watch some other surgeon speak quietly with another family. Peter never watches long enough to see their reactions, scared of what his own may be.

The only indicator of time passing has been the nurses' shift change. After checking in on Steve and Peter, and doing her best to provide some comforting words, Peggy bids them goodbye, and tells them she'll probably be one of Tony's post-op nurses, since she works with Dr. Yinsen most days.

Finally, after an impossibly long time, the doctor emerging from the dark doors is Banner. He locates them with a quick glance over the close to empty waiting room and makes his way over, looking exhausted but neutral. Steve is surprised how hard this guy is to read; his face gives no indication of how the surgery went. Once the doctor is in front of them, they both jump to their feet, Steve now towering over the smaller man.

"How did it go?" Steve asks urgently, fearing the worst for his husband.

"It went well," Dr. Banner begins. "There were very few minor complications."

Peter releases the breath he didn't know he was holding. "Can we see him?"

Banner nods. "Yes. I came to tell you that for the next hour or so he'll be in recovery, before being moved up to his room. You can wait for him there. Dr. Yinsen is with him now, making sure he is comfortable and stable. He'll check on him later, as well, to ensure all is going well."

They both nod to indicate their understanding and then thank him profusely for his help, shaking his hand before he walks away yawning.

Peter and Steve go to the nurses' desk to find out Tony's room number, and quickly make their way to the elevator. They stand in silence for the short ride, both tapping their feet nervously and chewing on their bottom lips.

When the elevator makes its classic _ping_ noise, they both rush out to find the room. It's not terribly difficult, and once they get there, they're unsure of what to do.

"Well, the doctor said it would be about an hour," Peter says, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah," Steve replies, looking at his son. With his messy brown hair and tan skin, he looks a lot like Tony did at his age. Steve sees a bit of himself in the worried expression, and the long thin limbs he's yet to grow in to, but the intelligence he sees in those brown eyes, that's all Tony. "Well, how about we get something to eat downstairs, and maybe bring up some flowers or something to brighten this place up?" He suggests, gesturing to the dull white walls and faded blue and green furnishings.

Peter nods. "That sounds good. I bet what he'll want most is his computer, though," he laughs.

Steve chuckles. "Yeah, well, he needs rest," he pauses.

"Well we both know that won't happen," Peter interjects.

"Maybe there are some science journals at the newsstand," Steve adds, agreeing.

After picking at some sandwiches in the cafeteria for a while, they stop in the gift shop to find some flowers for Tony's room. Steve grins when he finds a "Get Well" bear that's wearing a jacket with elbow pads, and adds that to their purchase as well. Then they stop at the newsstand and pull some magazines for him, a few science journals, and a Rolling Stone giving their opinion on the best guitarists, knowing Tony will appreciate the pieces on some of his favorite classic rock musicians.

When they get back to the room, they find Tony sleeping peacefully, though he's hooked up to wires and IVs all over his body. Peter puts the flowers across from the bed, so Tony can see them when he wakes up, and Steve puts the teddy bear next to his bed.

When Tony wakes up a short time later, Peter is flipping through one of the science journals, and Steve is fiddling with his phone. Neither notices Tony open his eyes.

He reaches for the pink plastic cup of water sitting on his bedside table next to the teddy bear, but can't quite reach it. He tries again, but is alarmed when he feels the wires tugging on his chest. The cup of water topples when his fingers push it out of reach, startling the other men out of their thoughts.

"Tony!" Steve yelps, feeling the relief wash over his body, before getting up to help his husband with the water.

Peter also sits up, smiling to see his dad awake.

After taking a few sips of the water, Tony coughs lightly, feeling an intense throbbing pain throughout his entire upper body.

"What," he coughs again, "what's going on? What happened?" He shakes his head, as if that may clear his thoughts.

"You were shot, Tony" Steve tells him slowly, feeling his voice catch in his throat when he actually says it. "You were trying to stop a robber, and he shot you in the chest."

Tony looks down at his chest, seeing the hospital gown covering a thick wrapping of bandages around his chest and torso.

"Oh," he says, unsure of what else to say. "What are all the wires for? There seem to be more than normal?"

Before Steve can tell him that he doesn't really know, a voice comes from the doorway.

"Please be careful with those," Dr. Yinsen warns. "Those wires are keeping you alive," he says somberly. "To prevent the fragments of the round from entering your heart, there is now an electromagnet in your chest. The wires connect it to a power source. Right now it is running on normal power, but when you leave, we'll have to use some kind of high-power battery."

Tony just looks around him, trying to understand if this is some kind of joke. When he sees the serious expression on the family's faces, his own loses any color it still had. He feels like he can't breathe. He's terrified.

"I know it is a lot to take in," Yinsen continues, "but it was necessary to keep you alive. Without this, you would have succumbed to the injury within a week," he adds solemnly.

"Oh," he says again, not used to being at a loss for words. "So I'm going to be strapped to a battery for the rest of my life?"

"You will need some kind of power source, yes. While you are here we will experiment with which kind will be best."

Tony nods in understanding, mind already working out a way to fix this, but the medications he's on are making it hard to think, and the anesthesia still hasn't fully worn off.

Dr. Yinsen then proceeds to tell Tony, and his family, more about the device in his chest. When Tony requests to see under the bandages Yinsen is reluctant, but agrees. Steve helps Tony sit up, since the pain in his chest and abdomen prevent him from moving normally, and helps to remove the hospital gown. The bandages are wrapped snuggly around his entire midsection, and in the center of his chest they're slightly raised where the wires are coming out.

Once the bandages are cut and pulled back, Tony grimaces, the hospital air cold on his freshly stitched wounds. When he looks down, he's surprised by the damage. While the majority of the wounds are around his chest, they're also scattered across his stomach and sides. In the center of his chest is a fairly deep cavity, in which there are a few wires attached to what Tony assumes is the electromagnet. He knows better than to pull it out, however.

Steve and Peter are both startled by how deep it goes, and Yinsen explains that's for whatever power source they decide on for it. The edges of the metal are embedded in raw, red skin that Tony knows will hurt later once the medication wears off.

All of a sudden, he has a thought.

"Steve," he addresses his husband in a surprisingly stern manner. "I need my computer. Or a tablet. I have an idea."


	13. TakeOut Bags

Tony spends a total of three months in the hospital. Each day is generally an improvement, but Tony, being Tony, can't always keep himself from getting hurt. The nurses all know and love him, despite Steve's warnings that his incessant flirtations could be taken as harassment, not charm. To keep himself busy during all this down time, he spends his time working on the calculations for an even smaller arc reactor than the one he'd built that night with Peter and Steve, which he could fit with the electromagnet if he made the necessary adjustments.

Steve and Peter spend as much time with him at the hospital. But Peter has school, and Steve has to make sure his son gets his work done, as well as maintain the house. Peter doe his homework at the hospital whenever he can, and he feels lucky to have two dads who can help him when he needs help. Steve always cooks a healthy dinner, which he brings for Tony, despite his husband's demands for things like cheeseburgers from his favorite fast-food joints, or shawarma wraps from the Mediterranean restaurant they frequented before the shooting.

To say he's going stir-crazy is an understatement. There are only so many theoretical calculations he can work out before wanting to get his hands dirty. For this, he has Peter.

In exchange for the promise of a new camera, Tony has had Peter bringing him thing to work on whenever he comes without Steve. Though it's probably against hospital policy to be bringing in tools to build miniature power sources, the staff generally ignores it; Tony likes to think it's his charm and good looks, Peter says it's probably just so they don't have to deal with his whining. The nurses love to see the father and son bent over the pull-out hospital bed table working intently, messy mops of brown hair pressed together. They only time the really have a problem is when the older man breaks something, hurts himself, or shorts out the machinery.

On such a day, neither of them notice the shadow in the door.

"Mr. Stark," comes the voice from the man in the doorway. "What are you doing?"

Tony and Peter look up, startled, with sheepish grins.

"Hey, doc!" Tony exclaims. "We're just working on a new kind of battery for my heart," he says, tapping the dark metal circle in the center of his chest.

"Mr. Stark," Dr. Yinsen chides "this is a hospital. You cannot bring tools," he gestures to the array on the bed "such as that blow torch into your room."

"Okay," Tony agrees. Peter and Yinsen both look at the genius in shock, surprised to see him relent so quickly. "We're finished," he adds, shrugging slightly. "I don't need the tools anymore."

"You've found a solution to the power issue, then?" Yinsen clarifies.

Tony nods. "It's a design of mine from a very long time ago. It's called an arc reactor. While it had been intended as a clean energy source, on a large scale it had never been cost-effective. Building it on a small scale had been too difficult. But _I_ was able to do so recently. In my basement. With a box of scraps. The one you see here is even smaller, and should be an excellent replacement for the suggestion of a car battery," he glances at Peter, who smiles sheepishly.

"What could it generate?" Yinsen asks, fascinated yet uncertain.

"If my math is right, and it always is, three gigajoules per second," Tony smirks.

"That could run your heart for fifty lifetimes," Yinsen says incredulously, doing the math in his head.

"Yeah," Tony nods.

At that moment, Steve walks in with a take-out bag. Tony's attention is immediately diverted.

"Is that-" he's cut off by Steve.

"Tony! Why are there power tools on your bed?" He looks angry, but unsurprised, until he sees the miniaturized arc reactor. "Is that an arc reactor?"

"Yes, it is. Now, more importantly, does that bag contain shawarma wraps?" Tony asks, leaning forward as he says it.

"That depends. Why do you have a miniature arc reactor? And, most importantly, why were you building one in a hospital with our son?" He says, putting the bag behind his back.

"I have to explain this _again_?" He complains, only half joking. "It's for my magnet," he says, tapping it again. "It'll run it forever, basically. Even if I were some kind of Norse god or something, it would last my entire lifetime," he jokes.

"Okay," Steve says apprehensively. "And it's safe?"

"Yepp. Safe as can be," he says hurriedly. "Now shawarma?"

Steve laughs quietly and shakes his head before wordlessly handing the bag over to his husband, who promptly pulls out one of the hot pita wraps for him and Peter.

Steve joins Peter on the foot of the bed, and the family eats while Dr. Yinsen explains to them that tomorrow, if the arc reactor works, Tony is healthy enough to be released.

"Really?" Tony says, mouth full of food. "'Bout time," he adds after swallowing.

"Yes," Yinsen says with a laugh. "Your wounds have healed nicely, and you have reacquired most of the strength in your core. You will not be jogging nor doing sit-ups anytime soon, but Dr. Banner and I think you can finish your recovery at home just as safely."

The group continues to discuss the particulars of Tony's rehabilitation at home, and they lay out a schedule of check-ups he'll need to follow through with. They then decide to try out the arc reactor.

"When you disconnect the power, you may feel some slight pain," Yinsen warns. "This will be the shards still in your chest, which will be momentarily free from the magnet's pull."

Tony nods, double checking that everything is ready to go. "Peter," he says, turning to face his son. "Let me see your hands."

Peter stares at him. "What?"

"Your hands. Let me see them."

Peter holds his hands up, figuring he'll find out why soon enough.

"Oh, yeah. Much smaller than any of ours. You have long, thin fingers. You're going to be tall like your papa. Anyway, you can do this."

"Do what?" He asks, ignoring the babbling about his fingers.

"You can switch out the power sources. Doc would be a great option, steady hands and all, but I think your hands will fit better," he says matter-of-factly.

"I uh, I don't know," he says nervously, glancing between the three men watching him. "Okay," he says, a few moments later with a resigned sigh. "I don't really see how I can say no."

"Atta boy," Tony grins, patting his son on the shoulder, before removing his shirt and leaning back in the bed. "Yinsen and I will walk you through it."

Peter nods and takes a few deep breaths. He then follows the instructions he's given carefully, only getting slightly shaken when Tony goes into some kind of cardiac arrest, which he insists "isn't as bad as it sounds," and to just "hurry up."

Once it's locked into place, Peter and Tony are illuminated by the bright blue glow that now radiates from his father's chest. Peter is relieved when he feels his father's heartbeat steady beneath his hands, calmly thumping like the rain on his roof at night.

"How do you feel?" Dr. Yinsen asks, grabbing his stethoscope to listen to Tony's heart.

"I feel great," he affirms, breathing when indicated. "Plus, I'm not attached to a plug anymore."

"But no pain, correct? You do not feel as if the fragments are moving at all?"

"Nope. All good. I think I'm good to go home," Tony answers, pulling another wrap from the take-out bag. "God, I've missed these."

* * *

**I am so sorry this took so long! I had half of it written for the longest time, but then last weekend I went down to San Diego to see a friend, and I had no chance to write. I really didn't do much at all, at least that I remember *laughs*. So yeah, I'm behind!**

**BUT I have all of the ideas ready to go, I just need to get writing!**

**My biggest problem right now is the lack of a good playlist. I have to have music while I write, and I currently don't have a good one for writing this story.**

**Are there any songs you think of when you read this? Or anything you just like to listen to while reading it?**

**Let me know!**


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